


The Cowboy, The Catalyst, and The Cult

by stratusdreams



Category: Blood (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Other, Romance, canon is mine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:22:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratusdreams/pseuds/stratusdreams
Summary: Millie leads a lonely, painfully boring life. They work as a waiter/cook at a dying diner, and their half-completed English degree is doing them no favors. They long for adventure -- and get more than they bargain for when they a down-on-his-luck Caleb stumbles into the diner they work at.
Relationships: Caleb/Self Insert
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my silly little self insert fic! I hope you enjoy your stay. :)

“By, Mil, hold down the fort and stay outta trouble!” Millie’s coworker, Lila, called over her shoulder as she left the diner. The door jingled behind her as she faded into the darkness -- it was two in the morning, after all.

Millie sighed, pulling out their phone and immediately flipping through their social media. They were alone at the diner, though only they knew that. No one else was in the building, and Sherry -- the boss -- keep a playlist of people talking playing in the kitchen, so as to convince any n’er-do-wells to avoid robbing the Ladybug Diner. Not that it really mattered, Millie thought. The Ladybug Diner wasn’t a particularly popular late-night hangout. Or a popular hangout at any time of day, for that matter. Sure, truckers stopped in during the early morning hours for coffee sometimes, but most of the time, the diner was dead silent. The only thing to do was mindlessly scroll through Twitter and eat day-old biscuits and gravy.

At least they only had two hours, and then Ray and Anna would be taking over their shift. Millie kicked their legs as they clicked on a dress up game. _Anything to pass the time_.

It had been less than thirty minutes before chaos unfolded, naturally.

A man stumbled into The Ladybug Diner, his black duster tattered and muddy. A pistol was indiscreetly tucked into the coat; what appeared to be gunpowder stained his jeans. His white button-down shirt had specks of blood, and his long brown hair swung wildly around his face from under his black cowboy hat. He nearly collapsed onto the ground, grunting in pain as he stared into the robin egg blue tile.

“Jesus fuck!” Millie practically jumped over the counter, approaching him quickly but cautiously. He was armed, after all. “Holy -- what the fuck? Are you okay?” They offered a hand as the man tried to stand, which he shakily accepted. Millie gasped as they realized his eyes were a burning crimson, not unlike blood. His nose had clearly been broken a few times, and his lip was bleeding. “My god…”

“I know it looks bad,” was all the man said. A brief, awkward pause filled the room as Millie and the man stared at each other.

“Umm. I -- do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No. I heal on my own.”

Ah. So he was crazy. “Uh-huh. Anyway. Umm.” Millie ran a hand through their bobbed brunette hair and sighed exasperatedly as they formulated a plan. “I have a first aid kit. Sit down at the bar counter -- I’ll grab it and clean you up.”

“I don’t reckon I need it. This is my status quo.”

“Fucking hell,” they mumbled to themself. “Just. Let me clean you up, okay? Please? I’m kinda freaked out, because you’re covered in blood -- why the _fuck_ are you covered in blood anyway?”

“I was attacked by cultists.” He frowned as he took a seat. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s the truth. They attacked me, an’ I killed ‘em all. I ain’t gonna lie to ya. But it was self defense… _this time_ …” 

Millie opened their mouth to say something, but couldn’t think of any response, so they quickly shut their jaw and nodded stiffly before going to the manager’s office for the first aid kit. They returned, setting it on the counter, before dipping into the nearby bathroom to grab a few wet paper towels to clean him up. When Millie came back to him, the man was playing with the toothpick dispenser. Five toothpicks sat before him, and it appeared he was trying to form a symbol.

_Whatever_. Millie shook their head. “Hey, uh, can you take off your hat?”

The man complied, and Millie felt their face flush. He was handsome. Very handsome. His crooked nose, the laugh lines at his mouth, the crows feet by his eyes, and those _eyes_ \-- a dazzling red in the diner’s humming LEDs. Millie tried to ignore their obvious blush and wiped the blood away from the man’s lip. His lip curled into a small smirk, only furthering Millie’s embarrassment. 

They lightly dabbed at a cut on his forehead, their nose crinkling at the smell of blood and gunpowder clinging to him. Millie was acutely aware of the pistol he carried as they brushed against the barrel. The man shifted slightly. “Sorry ‘bout that. It’s self defense,” he said in a thick Texan drawl.

“Texas,” Millie said. “I grew up there. The panhandle. You sound like you’re from Texas, or the South at least. Where ya from?”  
  


“Texas, too. Odessa.” The man quirked a brow. “Well, where Odessa is now, I mean. It wasn’t around when I was born.”

“I… Nevermind.”

“Ya don’t believe me.”

“I mean…? It’s kind of hard to believe anything when you come in here looking like hell and claiming you murdered cultists. What kind of cultists, anyway? Scientologists? Mormons?”

“What the _fuck_ is a Scientologist?”

“Nevermind.” Millie shook their head. “You’re a weird guy...”

“Caleb.” The man gave them a feisty grin. “And to who do I owe the pleasure of bein’ taken care of?”

For a brief moment, Millie considered giving him a fake name. But there was something oddly compelling about Caleb -- something trustworthy. “Millie,” they replied. “Uh, Caleb, do you have a hotel or something to go to after this? God, I’m not -- sorry. I’m not trying to like, take you home, I just mean… you’re in bad shape, and I wanna make sure you’ve got a place to stay.”

Caleb quirked a brow. “I’ve got a cardboard box in an alleyway.”

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack, Millie,” Caleb laughed. “I’m a man on the run from a cult, and I ain’t got time for fancy hotels. Usually I ain’t even allowed in ‘em.”

Millie cursed under their breath. Caleb was clearly injured (and likely concussed, based on his ramblings), and if he was to be believed, homeless. They didn’t have the cash to set him up in a motel room. What they did have was an empty couch at their house.

“Listen… I don’t want you to be sleeping in an alleyway when you’re in this state, I don’t have money to put you in a hotel, and I’d rather be hit by a bus than trust cops. So… as long as you promise not to be weird… you can sleep on my couch.”

“The pistol ain’t scarin’ ya?”

“This is the Midwest, Caleb. I’ve seen so many men come in here with pistols and concealed carry permits. For the sake of my mental wellbeing, I am going to believe you when you said it was for self defense, and I am going to assume you have a permit like everyone else.” Millie dabbed neosporin at a cut on his cheek as they spoke. “Like I said. Don’t be weird and you and I won’t have a problem.” They paused. “You’ve got clothes and stuff, right?”

“Um.”

“So that’s a resounding ‘no.’ Well, I know we have extra uniforms, so I’ll grab you one to wear, okay? I’ve got soap at my house, if you don’t mind smelling like flowers, and I can take you by the thrift store in the morning.” Millie frowned. “Oh, shit -- you need underwear. Uh, we’ll go by Wal-Mart or something before heading to my place, okay?”

Caleb stared at them with those brilliant red eyes -- _they have to be contacts_ , Millie thought. Weird that a homeless guy with a bloodied trench coat and a concussion had fancy contacts, but Millie had seen much weirder. “Sounds alright to me, I reckon.”

Once Caleb’s wounds were sufficiently dressed, Millie went back to the manager’s office to grab a spare uniform and a trash bag for Caleb’s ruined clothes. They returned and gave them to Caleb, who eyed the uniform with slight disgust. “Sorry,” Millie said. “They’re, uh, kinda ugly.”

“It’ll work. Thank ya,” Caleb replied. His voice was warm and genuine, and the low rumble of it made Millie’s heart flutter. The man hopped off the bar stool and went into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later. He tugged at the collar of the powder blue button-down. “I don’t think this color suits me. But… it’ll do.”

Millie gave him a small smile and glanced at their phone. They had about thirty minutes before Ray and Anna arrived, so they figured they’d grab Caleb and themself something to eat. Millie dipped into the kitchen and glanced around. “Be sure to put the gun in the bag, okay? But anyway -- you like toast?” 

“With strawberry jam!”

Millie nodded, popping two pieces of bread into the toaster for Caleb, and snagging a leftover biscuit for themself. They poured two glasses of soda and brought them into the bar area, where Caleb was once again fiddling with the toothpick dispenser. “What are you doing?”

“Having fun.” He glanced up at them from below his surprisingly thick lashes and dark brows. Millie looked at the toothpicks and noticed he was making some kind of weird symbol with them. “It’s an ol’ sigil. The first one I ever made.”

“Uh-huh.” Millie blinked, realizing that the cut on Caleb’s cheek was nearly gone. Was he right? Did he actually heal himself? _No, that can’t be right. It’s 3:45 in the morning and you’re tired. Get a grip, Millie!_ They shoved the thought away and went back to the kitchen to retrieve Caleb’s toast and packets of jam. 

  
Caleb wolfed down the toast in less than a minute, then chugged the soda. Millie felt a deep pang in their heart -- the poor guy was obviously starving. Without thinking, they reached out and touched his hand. “I’ll cook you up something when we get home, okay?”

“That sounds mighty fine.” 

“Alright, well… I’m gonna go turn on my car, so it’s warmed up for when we leave. Stay here, okay? Actually -- throw away your toothpick sigil real quick. Anna’s Catholic, and you’re gonna freak her out.”

Caleb nodded in understanding, scooping up the toothpicks and tossing them into a nearby trash can. Millie hoped Sherry wouldn’t notice that thirty toothpicks had disappeared from the dispenser overnight. 

Finally, Ray and Anna arrived, and Millie went to grab their bag from the office. Anna, who was 21 like them, entered the room and greeted them. She was always so cheerful in the mornings. “Millie, how’d the night go?”

“It went alright.”

“Must have been better than alright if your boyfriend’s here.” Before Millie could rebuke Anna, she continued, “Why’s he wearing a uniform, anyway?”

“He’s _not_ my boyfriend,” they replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of their voice. “He’s… just a friend, and he… got a bad nosebleed and needed a change of clothes. He’s not feeling good, so I’m gonna drive him home.” Millie prayed that Anna wouldn’t notice that there wasn’t a car for Caleb in the parking lot. “Anyway, yeah.”

“To who’s home?” Anna pried in her sing-song voice.

“His.”

“Mmm. Well, have a good night, Millie! Drive safe.” 

They thanked Anna for her concern, then quickly left the room, pulling their coat on. They felt a deep sense of gratefulness that Ray, the diner’s main cook, wasn’t talkative. He simply nodded a goodbye to them. Millie gestured for Caleb to follow, and he hopped up and left the diner with them.

Millie’s dinky little Volkswagen beeped as they unlocked the doors. Caleb followed Millie around to the driver’s side. “Uh. Caleb…?”

“Where do I get in?”

“On the other side? The passenger’s side?” _Like a normal person?_ He must have hit his head _really_ hard.

“Oh.” Caleb awkwardly shuffled back to the opposite door and crammed his large body into the tiny car. 

“Aren’t you going to buckle up?”

“Buckle up?”

_My god._

Millie gestured to the seatbelt. “You put it over your body, and, like, click it in place. See?” They demonstrated the basics of seatbelts, something they had not anticipated explaining to a man who was at least 30. 

Once the seatbelt conundrum was solved, Millie drove Caleb to Wal-Mart for supplies. They didn’t have a ton of money to spare, but they knew he needed underwear, socks, and a few t-shirts and sweatpants. Luckily, men’s clothing was cheap, so they could afford a few items for him. Maybe they’d be able to buy him a pair of jeans? 

“Alright, pick a couple of things -- just don’t go crazy, okay?”

“You don’t have to do this, Millie.”

“But I want to, okay?” They couldn’t explain it, but there was something earnest about Caleb that compelled Millie to help him. He was genuine, and strange, and Millie wanted to help him out. “Please. People have helped me enough in my life -- let me pass it on.”

Caleb grinned, and selected the clothes he wanted. Millie took him by the hygiene area as well -- he would need a toothbrush, and they went ahead and bought him some soap, despite his protests that Millie’s flowery shower gel would be fine. When he wasn’t looking, they snuck a small roll-on stick of cologne into the cart. A gift of sorts, they thought. 

Once all the necessary supplies were bought, Millie and Caleb finally drove back to Millie’s home. It was a one-story house outside of town, on a lonely road with no neighbors. It was practically falling apart at the seams, though the landlord didn’t seem to care. The house lacked a foundation, and the outside stucco was in bad shape from years of suffering the Midwest’s fickle weather. Regardless, it was cheap rent, and Millie had done their best to make it their own. 

“Well. Welcome to my humble abode.” Millie pointed at the couch and smiled at Caleb. “That’s your new bed for the time being, til ya get back on your feet. You can set your stuff by the end of the couch if you want -- I never have guests over, so you don’t have to worry about anyone tripping over it.” They walked into the kitchen, the cowboy following after he’d set his things down. “You like oatmeal? I can make you some.”

  
“Yes, please.” For such a rough-looking man, Caleb was oddly polite. Millie realized that he’d opened the door for them both on their way out of the diner and into their home, and that he spoke in a low but gentle voice to Millie. It was refreshing. Most men were just _loud_ , all the time, everywhere. 

“How about you go shower while I go? I’ve got 2-in-1 shampoo for your hair in there.” They paused. “You know how to work a shower, right?”  
  


Caleb rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, that’s one of the few things I actually do know how to do.” He left for the bathroom, taking his new underwear, a pair of dark gray sweatpants, and a black t-shirt with him. Millie watched him go with a small smile. They got paid in a few days -- and they also needed new clothes. Maybe they’d take him to their favorite thrift store? 

He returned just as Millie finished up his oatmeal. They set it on the table for him and watched him gobble it down, just like he’d done with the toast. He was obviously in a rough patch, and Millie felt a tinge of sadness in their heart. They hoped they might be able to help him get back on his feet. 

Caleb grinned widely at them when he caught them staring, and Millie realized that when he was cleaned up, he was even more handsome than before. Scruff on his chin gave him a roguish charm, while his laugh lines suggested someone who had spent quite a bit of time cracking jokes and getting others to join in. They wondered what he saw when he looked at them, but quickly banished the thought. “I’m gonna go grab you some blankets and a pillow, so you can get some rest.”

Millie entered their messy bedroom, frowning at the clutter. They knew they should clean. Maybe they’d do that when they woke up in the afternoon -- now that someone was crashing on their couch, they figured they really should invest some time in tidying up. Living alone and having no friends had given Millie no reason to keep a neat home. 

They came back with a pillow and an extra heated blanket they kept in the closet. “Here,” they said, setting the bedding on the couch. “Try and sleep, okay?” They glanced at the digital clock below their TV, noting it was almost 7:30 a.m. “I’m gonna go to bed now. I’ll probably be up around 2 or so, okay?” 

“Alrighty then. Thank ya, Millie. I really do appreciate this. You sleep well.”

“You too.” Even though Caleb didn’t give off any weird vibes, Millie grabbed their purse and headed to their room, where they locked the door. _Better safe than sorry,_ they figured, even if they were already letting a stranger sleep on their couch. 

Millie crawled into bed, turning their heating blanket on to fend off chronic pain and the impending cold of early autumn. Though Caleb was a strange man, and the circumstances of their meeting him were bizarre, Millie felt good about helping him. Perhaps he could be their friend. 

With dreams of companionship drifting close, Millie finally let themself fall asleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Millie and Caleb bond over unexpected similarities and circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it continues...

It had been a week since Caleb had started crashing on Millie’s couch. It’d been relatively uneventful; Caleb was an exceptionally polite, albeit quirky, guest. He offered to do the dishes each night, but was baffled when Millie asked him if he knew how to work a modern washing machine and dryer. They had to explain to him how to care for his hair. He claimed that he never used any “fancy soaps” in his hair, and instead just ran water through his dark brown locks until he felt they were sufficiently clean. 

“Okay, so. I typically use a 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, because this stuff is good for my scalp. But most of the time, you use shampoo, wash it all out, then put conditioner on your ends.”

“Why on your ends?”

“To keep your hair soft -- your roots’ll get all oily if you aren’t careful, so conditioner only goes on the ends. And it keeps you from getting split ends.”

“Split ends?”

Millie raised a brow, but continued. “So the ends of your hair can split and get destroyed and frizzy, you see.” They grabbed a small section of their hair and pointed to the ends. “I’ve got some, because I haven’t had a haircut in a while.”

“I cut my own hair.”

Based on the jagged cutting job, that much was obvious, Millie thought fondly. “Yknow what? Next paycheck, I’ll take us to get our hair cut. I know a girl who’s a great hairdresser with good prices. Sound good?”

“Millie…” Caleb glanced away. “You’re too kind to me.”

“I’ve been in bad places,” Millie said with a shrug. “I just… I never want people to feel like they have no one, you know? I wanna help when I can.” They tucked their knees up under their chin, hearing the raggedy old green couch creak and groan under the shift in weight. “It’s really nothing, Caleb. I’m happy to help. And you know -- it’s only been a few days, but you’re probably the best roommate I’ve had.”

“Oh, that ain’t a good sign.” He laughed, a deep, hearty rumble that reverberated in Millie’s chest. Caleb threw a look their way, and Millie hated the way a part of them yearned for him to keep his eyes on them. They’d only known him for a short time, yet he treated them with dignity and kindness, helped around the house, and made them laugh. That was more than could be said for their ex boyfriends. 

“The girls I roomed with in college… the first one would wake me up coming in at three in the morning every night til she moved out. The second one? Okay, so, I was actually working really hard to keep my side of the room cleaned, and it was really nice looking! But she said I was a gross, messy pig, and moved out too.” Millie sighed, fiddling with the hem of their lounge pants. “It’s whatever. I got over it.”

“That wasn’t very nice.” There was a sharp edge to Caleb’s voice, as if he were truly angry on Millie’s behalf.

“It was a year and a half ago. I’m fine now, I promise. But... I guess I am kinda messy.” They straightened their legs back out and stretched, reaching for the remote. “You wanna watch _Say Yes To The Dress_? It’s this show about brides picking out their dresses at the fanciest bridal shop in New York. Sorry, I know it’s a little silly, but --”

“Millie, you don’t gotta apologize for having interests. Let’s watch it.”

They blinked in surprise. Millie wasn’t used to people actually wanting to engage with their interests. All their life, they’d been told to be quiet. Keep their likes to themself. Yet here Caleb was, offering to watch one of their favorite shows with them. Subconsciously, they scooted a little closer to him. He was rough around the edges, sure, but he made them feel secure.

\---

“Alright. So. let me get this straight. These ladies want their own special dresses, but they bring their mamas along, and they let their mamas talk to them like that?”

“I mean. I guess.” Millie shoveled another handful of popcorn into their mouth, passing the bowl back over to Caleb. “I don’t really get it either. I just like the dresses and Randy.” They watched as Caleb quirked a brow. “Listen, I’m easy to please.”

“I’d say,” he replied with a chuckle. He ran a hand through his choppy locks, and Millie suddenly felt overwhelmed by the need to touch his hair. It looked surprisingly soft alongside his rugged features. Caleb had deep laugh lines, and crows’ feet by his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He had dark stubble on his chin and cheeks, even though he’d shaved just the day before. Millie had given him a razor and let him borrow their shaving cream to clean himself up some. He wore a plain white t-shirt and black sweats that Millie had bought for him a few days prior. Somehow, even in such simple clothes and in the low light, he looked radiant.

_God, Millie, you’re pathetic,_ they chided themself. _You barely know him and you’re already lovestruck._ They tucked a strand of mousey brown hair behind their ear, then glanced at Caleb. “I’m gonna go shower. You can watch whatever.” They hopped off the couch, the heat in their face almost unbearable. Just sitting near him had made Millie feel like a giggly schoolgirl. 

They grabbed their pajamas from the bedroom then approached the bathroom. Millie set their clothing down and went to turn on the shower. 

A massive wolf spider greeted them, and Millie screamed, stumbling back from the shower, nearly taking the curtain down with them. The spider began to crawl back up the wall just as Caleb entered the room. Millie barely had time to register that he was holding his pistol before Caleb gasped, “Oh, shit!” and a gunshot rang out.

It was silent for a moment before Millie stood up and turned to Caleb. “What the fuck?!”

“I’m sorry! It was a kneejerk reaction!”

“In what world is shooting a spider an acceptable reaction?!”

“Listen, if you’ve seen the spiders I’ve seen--”

“Caleb! What fucking spiders have you seen?” Millie’s voice reached a fever pitch. They tugged on their hair. “What am I gonna tell Jimmy?”

“Jimmy?”

“My landlord. Fuck. He’s gonna kill me.” Millie sat down on the closed toilet and rubbed their eyes. “Fuck -- I’m sorry for yelling at you, Caleb. I just… I got stressed.” They sighed heavily. “I guess I can tape it up or something and call Jimmy in the morning.”

The cowboy put the safety back on his pistol and set it on the sink counter before touching Millie’s shoulder. “I messed it up -- lemme fix it, alright? Just get me the supplies and I’ll take care of it for ya.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Aw, hush, Mil, just let me fix it for ya, damnit!”

Millie sighed softly and ran a hand through their hair. “Alright. I’m sorry.” 

  
“No need to be sorry, alright?” He patted their shoulder comfortingly. “Just take your shower an’ I’ll get it all fixed up.”

\---

Millie entered the kitchen to see Caleb digging through a toolbox. The box had been a gift from Millie’s father when they moved out on their own -- not that they ever used it. If there were problems around the house, they called Jimmy to deal with it. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” Millie said, sitting at the table. “But I appreciate the effort.”

He glanced up for a brief moment before returning to the toolbox. “I want to. Just let me do this.” Caleb sat back and fiddled with the tools he’d set on the table: a screwdriver; a hammer; and a few nails. “I had a house I had to repair quite a bit. Ol’ shithole was always fallin’ apart, but it was mine, y’know?” He seemed to be lost in a pleasant memory. “I think I’m gonna need some caulk for the hole, but if you’ve got duct tape to hold it over for tonight, we can fix it up nice and new, I reckon.”

Millie gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem, pup.”

Their face instantly flushed. “I -- pup?”

He looked at them quizzically. “Yeah, pup. You remind me of a lil’ puppy. Small, a lil’ skittish, pretty easily spooked. Cute. You just wanna protect ‘em.” Caleb grinned. “All good things, I promise.”

“I see,” Millie responded, embarrassed by how hot their face was at Caleb’s nickname for them. 

“D’ya not want me to call ya that?”

“N-no! You can call me that, if you want. I just… I haven’t been given a nickname like that in awhile. Or ever, really.” They toyed with the hem of their t-shirt. “You’re way too nice to me, Caleb.”

“I just do my best.” 

  
The two shared a small smile in the idyllic Midwestern evening. Though winter crept up on Millie’s small house, a few birds still chirped outside. The sky was painted in lovely hues of dark blue, purple, and pink. Caleb stared out the window, and the light caught his hair beautifully. It was so perfect. 

Of course, it couldn’t last forever. 

Caleb’s facial expression changed from a tranquil beam to a furious snarl. “Get down,” he growled, shoving the table back. “Under the table. Now.”

“What--”

  
“Millie, get down!”

They obeyed, crawling beneath the table and hugging the legs of a chair. They watched as Caleb hit the ground, shuffling along the living room’s dark brown carpet. He opened his bag and whipped out his pistol. All was silent for a moment before gunfire broke the living room window. Shock overtook Millie; they couldn’t even scream in fear. Caleb opened fire on someone outside the house, and they heard grunting and yelling from the driveway. Odd chanting and shrieking filled the air. “Maranax malax! Stragarana!”

Several gunshots rang out from the living room, and Millie could hardly hear anything else besides the thundering of their heart. They shut their eyes and willed away hot tears. 

A gentle hand touched their back, but Millie couldn’t bring themself to turn around. The hand pulled away, and Caleb appeared in front of them a few seconds later. “Millie. Get up, we need to leave.”

“What the fuck is happening?!” Millie snarled, tugging on their hair. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Listen to me, Mil, I’ll explain later, but right now, we need to go. The Cabal has tracked me here. And they will kill you if they see you. You have to trust me. Do you understand?”

“You put me in danger?”

“I didn’t mean… I was tracking them. Anyway, we need to move now. Pack up your most important stuff and let’s go.” Caleb grabbed their wrist and gently tugged. “C’mon now, Mil, let’s leave.”

Millie couldn’t stop themself from bursting into tears. They collapsed to the ground as they wept, but Caleb pulled them back up, cradling them against his chest. “I know, I know. Shh. It’s okay. Let’s pack up and get the hell outta Dodge, alright? You’re gonna be safe with me. I got you into this mess, and by god, I’m gonna get you out.”

“I should call the cops.”

“Cops fuckin’ suck and they ain’t qualified to deal with a cult.”

He had a point. 

They stumbled to their room and grabbed a suitcase from under their bed. Millie vaguely heard the front door open, and then the crackling of fire out in the yard. They stared blankly into the empty suitcase, unsure of whether or not this was some horrific nightmare or their unfortunate reality. In either case -- what choice did they have? If what Caleb said was true, Millie was fucked if they stayed. Caleb was quick to the draw and was apparently a decent shot, and even if Millie called the cops, what would they even say? “Hey, a crazy man brought cultists to my house?”

They quietly packed up their things and staggered back into the living room. Caleb entered the house, smelling of gunsmoke and ash. He gave them a small smile in an attempt to be comforting. “You ready?”

“I fuckin’ guess,” they mumbled. “God, where are we even staying tonight? I guess we can sleep in the car--”  
  


Caleb cut them off, pulling a wad of cash from his pocket. Millie’s jaw dropped as he explained. “Apparently, Cabalists carry their wallets on them. And the cult has benefits.”

Whatever. They didn’t have time for this. Millie shoved past him and unlocked their car, which somehow had survived the firefight unscathed. It was a dinky little green Volkswagen that got Millie mocked by their old college buddies, but it got them where they needed to go, and that was enough. They unlocked the trunk and tossed the suitcase inside as Caleb followed them out. Millie then collapsed into the driver’s seat as the cowboy hopped in the passenger side. “So where are we going?”

“Denver.”

“...Are you kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious as a heart attack, pup--”

“Don’t you ‘pup’ me right now, mister!” Millie huffed as they pulled out of the driveway. “Wait. Where are the bodies?”

“You had a lighter in your kitchen drawer.”

Millie pursed their lips, unsure of how to respond. “Okay. Fine. It’s fine. Whatever. Anyway. We are headed to Denver. Why?”

“Based on my findins’, that’s where the Cabal is situated here in the Midwest. I was huntin’ them down, and I thought I’d killed the last of ‘em in the area that night ya took me home. I was wrong, I guess, or else they called backup before I blew their brains out.” Caleb shrugged. “But don’t worry. You’re gonna be safe with me. You live to be my age and you learn a few tricks.” He glanced out the window. “On the bright side. We get to go on a roadtrip, eh?”

“Don’t.”

“Alright, alright, sorry.”

“You’d better be!” Millie snapped. “Sorry, I just. What the fuck? We were just sitting there, and then… Jesus have mercy. This cannot be real.” They ran a hand through their hair and tugged on the ends. 

“Well, Mil, it’s real, and you’re stuck with me ‘til we sort it out.”

_Lucky me._


End file.
